"My maid," said I, "that kind of talk will not do with me"—(for at her tone my anger blazed up higher even than hers). "It is I who have to ask Why and How?"
"How dare you—" she began.
I went up without more ado, and took her by the shoulders. Never in all the time I had known her, had the thought ever come to me, that one day I might treat her so. She struggled violently, and seemed on the point of crying out. Then she bit her lip; but there was no yielding in me; and I compelled her backwards to a chair.
"You will sit there," I said. "And I shall stand. I will have no nonsense at all."
She looked at me, I thought, with more hate than I had ever seen in human eyes; glaring up at me with scorn and anger and resentment all mingled.
"Yes—you can bully maids finely—" she said. "You can come and cringe for their protection first—"
I laughed, very short and harsh.
"That manner is of no good at all—" I said. "You will answer my questions. How did you come here? How long have you been here?"
She said nothing; but continued to look at me. Then again my anger rose like a wave.
"Do you think to stare me down?" I said. "If you will not answer me,
I'll begone to those who will."